In Nuclear Fire

[Poliamida]

After the examples of @Hydralisk 's Kathy's Brockton Bay Adventures (Worm/Tinker of Fiction) and @Kejmur 's Get Away From Brockton Bay! "Tinker of Fiction" SI birthed in the pool of madness that's the Tinker of Fiction Discord, I decided to bite the bullet and try my hand with a Worm SI. For those that don't know, the Tinker of Fiction switches tinker trees after a couple weeks.

I have 8 chapters written and will slowly be posting them as I give them the final edits.

Let's see how this goes!

Go Big or go off

In nuclear fire - 1​

From a very young age, I developed the capacity to ignore my problems, pushing them to the back of my mind where they can't bother me until they crashed directly against my face. 'It will somehow get sorted out' isn't just my motto but also my way of life.

Doing my homework? Studying for the exams? Sorting those very important papers for my boss? I can do that the day before the deadline no problem. As long as I fulfill my task and don't bring attention to myself, I can keep doing the things I actually like.

I just want a peaceful life, you know? Surrounded by me, myself, and my hobbies.

That was why unexpecteds were the bane of my existence.

Did anyone else ever have this one nightmare of crossing a door and suddenly finding oneself in a different world? I also had this phobia of entering my house and finding out that my family had moved years ago. Or being told 'but you are dead!'

Things like that.

Things that would drastically change my well-oiled routine.

Well, like most things in life, it eventually happened one week ago, and just now I'm feeling coherent enough to reassess my situation.

Waking up in an unfamiliar bed was a bad start which only got worse from there on as I discovered that I was in an unfamiliar body too. The icing on the cake was then discovering that I was on my way to a place named Brockton Fucking Bay.

And the even worst part is that remaining under the radar won't be an option.

Because I'm in Worm. The world that will be destroyed in just a couple years.

I'm a Tinker. Someone who everyone will want to get their hands on.

And if this bloody city doesn't turn into a smoking crater at the end of the month, I will consider it a victory.

My previous life here is a huge confusing mess of broken memories, but as I have been told by my social worker I'm an eleven-year-old Canadian whose entire direct family recently died in a car crash.

Good thing that they assumed that my lapses of memory are because of my grief and trauma.

Grief and trauma that I don't need to fake because, hey, I'm in Worm! Everything is shit, it will only get worse, and finding a rope to hang myself very much under consideration.

But that's for later because here I find myself in front of the tiny wooden house, I no longer have time for procrastination or panic, and I need to see how I sort this out.

The door opens and I see the family that will be looking after me from now on. The man was a cousin of my local late-mother and was married to a woman who also died in a car accident.

Standing some paces behind him is his daughter, a girl of fifteen years old who is very emphatically avoiding looking at me.

Her name is Taylor Hebert, and everything that can go wrong will go wrong around her.

---

I sit silently through most of the conversation between Danny and the social worker, my fidgeting only interrupted when I reply to questions aimed directly at me.

I miss my phone so much! Nothing like a phone to push through boring reunions and social gatherings. I think that what I missed the most is all the progress I had on my Gacha games. That one stings. So many months lost there.

Immediately my mind starts rushing with ideas for a complex communication device, small enough to carry in my pocket yet powerful enough to move any contemporary program.

I steady my hands and with them my desire to dismantle the cheap TV to build it. Or, better said, to build the tools that I'll need to eventually build it.

This is getting stressful. Do the Heberts have a PC?

"Peter?"

They should. Taylor is good with computers after all, and even an old PC should have enough material for-

"Peter!"

That puts an end to my train of thought as I remember that 'Peter' is my name in this world.

"Yes?"

Danny exchanges a look with the social worker that looks almost apologetic. "I asked you how you felt about living with us."

"Ah." I shrug. "I feel fine."

And that's pretty much the end of the conversation. After some final papers are signed, the social worker leaves and Danny leads me to the attic.

"I'm sorry we don't have a better room for you."

"It's okay." My 'bed' is a mattress on the floor with a lamp next to it. Nothing fancy, but my grandpas in my previous life tended to visit us often, so I have gotten accustomed to sleeping on the floor. A bit of a killer for the back but I can deal with it.

"Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me or Taylor."

"If I need anything, I will."

I'm left alone after that to unpack and think. From this life, the only things I have left are a suitcase with a random assortment of clothes, some items for personal hygiene, and little else. I don't even have a watch for fuck's sake! What am I supposed to do now?

Well, I can start with a bomb. A very big bomb to blow this place up to smithereens! Heavens know it deserves it.

My first thought is a nuclear device, relatively simple to build. No, no, I need something bigger if I want to destroy the entire planet. A cannon. A prismatic core that will channel the energies of the void into a continuous beam. I just needed to aim it down and it'll reach the core with little effort.

But the material requirements are… insane. I'll need to raid several nuclear plants just to get enough materials for half of the entire project.

I let myself fall into the bed and look around. There is so much wood around me. Wood and cardboard boxes. A spark here and the entire house will burn down. Why do the Americans build such flimsy houses? Stone and bricks are far better.

I sigh.

I haven't really been thinking a lot about what I should be doing, allowing myself to go with the flow until I found a good place to rest.

Taylor is a magnet for problems and bad decisions. I could have refused to come to the Heberts and go instead to a foster house. But what is the point? The entire world can die at any moment now! I have no place to flee to, so why not staying in the Bay? If I die it at least will be fast.

Unless Bakuda gets me.

Or Jack Slash.

Or any of the other bad things around the world that won't allow me to die.

Can I build a suicidal vest for emergencies? The answer I get from my power is… inconclusive. I have been trying to figure out how my power exactly works but it isn't clear to me. Tinkers are supposed to be extremely flexible, but I only have specific 'blueprints' that I can build and nothing outside those. I can mix and match them but only to a certain degree. Tinkers shouldn't have such a 'clear' vision of what they can do like I have, as experimentation is the name of the game for them. It's weird, as is the fact that the designs in my head look somehow familiar. I just can't put my finger on why.

Oh, well. As rolling down and dying isn't Plan A (it's B) I could at least try to have some fun while at it. If I somehow manage to right some of the many wrongs that offend me in the process, all the better.

One by one I open the boxes in search of things I can use. I do find an electric heater, but the rest are useless winter clothes.

I need something to help me collect resources. Something like… a drone, yes. A modular drone that can not only dig, mine, and dismantle materials, but can also modify itself on the fly to adapt to different environments. Several can also combine into different configurations, from bigger combat forms to mining platforms and even factories!

Yes! That's exactly what I need!

The only problem is that I can't build it. It isn't just expensive, but the precision tools I need I won't be found in any house. I'll need to build those too.

Shit, there was always one thing or the other.

Can I join the Wards? Or any similar faction?

Nah.

The drone alone would have people screaming 'kill order' over self-replicating technology. I can't say I'd blame them as the drone can recycle organic matter, like humans, but that's something I see as a feature. And then there's also the many, many improvements I can do to my body. I don't know what policy the PRT has on self-modification but I doubt they'd allow an eleven-years-old to practice surgery on himself.

Criminal groups would be more flexible with that but then there's the disgust I feel towards them.

Taylor calling me to eat is a welcoming distraction from my problems. She places a plate in front of me with her and Danny seated across the table. What follows are several minutes of silence only broken by the cutlery. Is this how the Hebert family behaves at the table?

I like it. Silent, quick, and to the point. I can get accustomed to it.

Once Danny is done, he announces that he's leaving for work. It's Saturday but he switched his shift so he can be here to receive me. Oh, well, that only means that Taylor and I will have the house for ourselves for the rest of the day.

We finish our food mostly at the same time, and by instinct I move to clear the table.

"What are you doing?" Taylor asks me with a raised eyebrow.

"Clearing the table. Or do you prefer to clear it and me to wash the dishes?"

She looks surprised by my answer. "No, I… I can wash them. Thanks."

With that done I move back to the attic.

I need something cheaper than the drone to help me start. Something like… a helmet. Yes, a visor that detects electric currents and electronic equipment. It will also have heat vision, x-ray vision, and even sonar. Yes, yes. I like it, and it won't be very expensive! Once again I think about the TV in the living room.

But I better not, it going missing will be far too noticeable.

My next destination will then be the basement! I haven't found anything useful in the attic, beyond the heater, but maybe down there I'll be luckier.

I walk down to the second floor and hear Taylor in her room. Maybe doing homework or practicing with her bug control powers.

I don't know, and frankly don't care.

Continuing down, I soon find the door to the basement.

The place is a mess. There are boxes upon boxes covered in dirt and grime. Even the steps of the stairs are covered in dust as I can see the footprints left by my shoes.

I should have brought gloves. And maybe a mask. But it's too late for that now so I force myself to endure and open the first box, kept shut by spiderwebs instead of duct tape.

Okay, this… this is far more interesting. In the first box, there is a mixer, and in the second one there's a dusty sewing machine. A hairdryer, a hair straightener, a radio, an alarm clock. A freaking old laptop! This is a treasure trove of trash that I can turn into something useful!

And in this box…

Oh, yes, now we are talking. There are jewels in here. Lots and lots of gold and silver that I can turn into very efficient conductors. There are diamonds and other jewels too. My mind rushes with possibilities!

I move some more boxes out of the way and… I almost lose my lunch. I find spiders. Dozens, hundreds of them with their long and hairy legs. They are almost dancing in a perfectly synchronized routine as they sew something. A suit.

Ah, yes. It was here where Taylor was making her hero (later villain) suit. I had totally forgotten about that!

'Taylor controls them' I repeat over and over in my head like a mantra, slowly making my way back. A way that I find obstructed by the sound of someone walking down to the basement too.

It's Taylor, and when she sees me her expression turns into a scowl of fury.

It probably has something to do with the box of jewels I have in my hands, which probably belonged to her deceased mother.

The fact that I found her hero suit doesn't help my position either.

Okay, she's mad at me, what should I say in a situation like this? "I didn't see anything if you didn't see anything."

That's evidently the wrong thing to say as Taylor twitches and suddenly all the bugs are on me. I don't scream but that's mostly because I suddenly find the air in my lungs lacking.

First day in Brockton Bay and someone is already trying to kill me. Joy.

"What are you doing here?!" She demands. "And don't try to lie! I will know!"

She will know? I'm fairly sure that she doesn't have any power that can let her... Ah! That must be a lie to scare me.

This is annoying. Also a waste of my time.

Okay, breathe, breathe. Calming breaths.

This isn't the first time I'm forced into a bad position having to explain myself. At least Taylor isn't one of the many people I wouldn't mind seeing gutted. Even if she's close to that.

Now, my solution for situations like these is to just stare at them blankly until they get tired of being angry at me and go out to do more productive stuff. That has never failed me!

"I needed parts to build things." I explain in an even tone.

Taylor blinks a few times trying to comprehend what I just said. "To do what?"

I hate so much repeating myself. Even more so when I'm covered in bugs. "To build things. I am a Tinker."

A twitch starts to develop in her eye. "That was why you were stealing our things!?"

"Yes. It's a basement. This is where people toss stuff they don't care about anymore."

"It's not your basement!" Her voice almost breaks there at the end. "These are still our things!"

"Fine, sorry." I reply with a shrug. "Want me to build you something as compensation?" I can't wait to be done with this so we can all get back to doing more useful stuff.

"What?!"

Again with this? "I asked you if you want me to build you something with all this. As a token of good faith, you see."

"What is wrong with you!?" Taylor asks me close to what looks to be hysteria. "People shouldn't act like that when covered in bugs!"

I roll my eyes. "Do you have complete control over your bugs?"

There is a pause while Taylor studies me carefully. "Yes?"

"Then I have nothing to fear as I don't think you want to go over the hassle of hiding a body." Horror flashes over her face. "At least I think you don't. I don't know you well enough yet."

Several seconds pass during which the only sound I hear is that of the crawling insects. Then one by one Taylor's spiders retreat from my body, and without saying another word she turns back and leaves the basement.

I pick the stuff I have found up and head to my room. Maybe this time I can tinker in peace.

 

[Poliamida]

In nuclear fire - 2​

As it turns out, no, I can't tinker in peace because Taylor has decided that she needs to learn more about tinkers. And that's why we soon find ourselves in the bus on the way to the library, me with her because Taylor has unilaterally decided that I need supervision. I feel offended at that, I'm still very much an adult inside this childish body who's responsible enough to handle power tools!

I can even give her classes on how to use them! Literally. I have given several of those in the past.

The trip is amazingly boring. What am I supposed to do? Taylor's as uninterested in talking as I am. At least I have the chance to experience what Brockton Bay actually looks like by seeing it pass out of the window.

Not as bad as I feared if I'm honest. There aren't groups of men carrying weapons in the open and there aren't that many bums sleeping on the streets. The amount of graffiti paintings is a surprise, and some people might have raised their eyebrows at the amount of trash bags pilling in some corners, but all in all, it isn't that different from my previous city.

"We're here." Taylor's words shake me out of my boredom.

The library is a massive hulk of concrete, the monotony of the grey stone broken only by the many graffitis scattered around it.

Once inside she aims at a chair close to the reception desk. "Wait here." And then leaves without waiting for my reply. She greets the librarian by his name -a name that I promptly forget- before leading me to one of the private rooms with a single computer inside. She takes a seat at the keyboard and starts typing.

With nothing else to do, I look around the room. It's big enough to hold some six people comfortably and the walls are covered in bookcases filled with heavy tomes about mechanical engineering. I pick one at random and sit at the table with it. Not something as easy to do as I was expecting considering that the books are deceivingly heavy for my small frame.

The impact of the book against the table makes Taylor flinch. "Are you… are you reading that?"

"Yes." Less reading and more skimming but the idea's the same. Some of these topics are about things I still remember. I wonder if I can make a machine that automatically downloads books into my brain. I always wanted to have one of those to save time.

"Those are university books."

"Entry-level from what I'm reading. What about it?"

My question is left unanswered.

"Okay." Taylor announces soon enough, pressing her palms over the keyboard. "Can we talk for a moment?"

"Are you sure you want to talk about those things here?" I ask without raising my eyes from the book. We are in a public location after all.

"With my bugs, I can know if someone gets close."

"Fair enough." I look around. "There doesn't seem to be any listening devices. My power should have allowed me to find them." At least I hope so.

"Aren't you exaggerating?"

In a city that has Coil in it? "I don't think so." The deal he later formed with Chariot wasn't bad all things considered, but the guy is firmly on my 'free for impalement' list.

But if I want to go for cruel and unusual I can create a larva that will eat him from the inside-out. And I can make it work on a timer, ensuring that his timelines don't protect him from it!

Wait, does my power have biological constructions too? Something to think about later.

"Well, just…" She struggles with her words. "Are you feeling alright? Do you have any strange desires?"

"Are you trying to give me 'the talk'?"

If she had been drinking anything, she'd have spitted it all out. "No! And aren't you too young to know about it?"

"I'm too young for a lot of stuff." I say with a shrug. "And to answer your question, I'm barely holding myself back from dismantling that PC." But I don't know if that's a 'tinker fugue' or just me feeling that I can finally build something awesome with my hands. After years of dreaming of building robots and other machines, I finally have the power to do so and just want to exercise it!

She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, that's what I feared." She gestures at the screen. "According to this, tinkers that don't build something for a long time get more and more anxious until they start taking apart their houses."

"Not much different from a drug, is it?"

"You…" I'm sure I see the veins of her forehead about to pop. "Yeah. It isn't." She presses her palms together. "Have you considered the Wards?"

"Have you?"

"This isn't about me!"

Well… I don't have much interest in arguing against that. "I don't care about them. I don't care about the child soldiers that they turn into action figures to sell to the masses only for their brand to get devalued once they die against a villain or an endbringer." I can almost hear the hinges of Taylor's mouth shrieking as her jaw hangs freely from her mouth. "I also don't like people. I don't want to be forced to talk to people, to be forced into the public, and smile while I answer their question or sign their posters." I don't remember at what point I started cracking my fingers, something I like to do whenever I feel angry. I tend to do that a lot.

"Okay, I… I at least can understand that." That puts an end to our conversation and soon we are on our way back to her house.

---

The floor of my room is covered by the remains of the things I dismantled, next to Danny's discarded tools that I borrowed.

After finding out about Tinker Fugues, Taylor agreed to let me build one item fearing that I'll go insane if I don't. Or insane-er, if the way she keeps glancing at me is anything to go by. I use almost all of what I found in the basement for this, with the exception of Taylor's mother's jewels that I'm saving for a special occasion.

My work done, I spend a moment looking at my creation: a wristband with a green jewel encrusted into it.

This is… this is the first thing I have built with these powers. How many times have I daydreamed of doing something like this? There is something relaxing about putting all the pieces of the puzzle together and seeing it work like the well-oiled machine that it is. It is precise. It is controlled. It is something that I can very much enjoy.

"What did you build?" Taylor asks from the side, wearily looking at the wrist-mounted contraption.

To answer her question, I activate the device causing the blade to materialize.

Taylor's eyes light up. "Is… is that a Lightsaber?"

"Not exactly." I tried to build one at first but my power refused to build the hand-held version. I guess that this way I have my hands free for other stuff, even if the lack of a crossguard makes me uncomfortable. "But it should be just as powerful, being able to cut through nearly anything." I turn the blade off, remove it from my arm, and strap it to Taylor's.

She eyes it wearily, but after explaining how to use it she presses the activation button. The blade makes her flinch as it is longer than when I used it, able to adapt to her longer limbs.

She looks enraptured at the blue color of the plasma, and after a moment she finally dares to make some test swings far away from me.

"Do be careful as it's extremely sharp. So I suggest that you only use it on brutes and regenerators."

She immediately turns it off. "What do you mean when I use it?"

"I have no use for it. I have no intention to go out and fight people personally." Doing so is plain stupid considering that I have in my head designs for multiple autonomous robots. Why risk myself when I can send others to do my work?

Her eyebrows knit into a scowl. "Are you trying to bribe me with Tinkertech?"

"No." And that's all I tell her as I go back to tinkering. Luckily I still have just enough to build the visor I want. "How good are you at close quarters combat?" I ask her trying to make some small talk. It is the polite thing to do.

"What?"

"Combat. How good are you? You need to be good to defeat your enemies."

"Why do you want to know?"

"What is the suit in the basement for if not for punching people?"

A groan escapes her lips. "I honestly don't know." And then we are back at the silence. At least it doesn't last as long this time around. "What are you building?"

In my hands, I have the frame of what look like very advanced glasses. "This visor will allow me to switch between several tactical views. It will have infrared, sonar, and several others that I hope will help me find materials easier."

"That is... good."

Okay, that sounds like she's sad. Or mad. I can't tell.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

She throws her hands up in the air muffling what might be a scream. "It doesn't matter, okay? You… you keep doing whatever you want to do." She removes the Psi Blade, places it over a box, and with heavy steps she marches out of the attic.

I look down at my half-finished visor and for a moment I consider just continuing my working on it, but the sound of Taylor slamming her door changes plans. I walk to her room and knock at her door.

"What?!" Comes the voice from the other side.

Charming.

"I want to talk to you."

"I don't want to! Go away."

What to do? Maybe if I just ignore her the problem will go away.

While thinking about it I press myself against Taylor's door… and promptly fall into her room. As I scramble to my feet I realize that her door not only isn't locked, it doesn't have a lock, with the space it should occupy in the frame of her door empty.

Do these people have no privacy?

Taylor's room is surprisingly girlish. And old. Not because of the decorations but the stuff she has inside. There are some plushies, dolls, and a couple of other things, but they all look so old. And dirty. The same with the walls that look as if no one has bothered to give them a second helping of paint in years.

Pressed against a corner, underneath a window, is Taylor's bed. And in said bed is Taylor, looking at me as if she's thinking about committing first-degree murder.

"Sup." I greet her again with a raised palm.

She throws her head back releasing a groan. "What are you doing here?"

"In your room or in general?"

"In my house! Here! Everywhere!"

What was my alibi again? Oh, yes. "My parents died in a car crash and Danny Hebert was my closest relative." I immediately fall to the ground under the force of the cushion that Taylor just threw at my face. "Ouch!"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Do you want the list in alphabetical order?"

And then she groans again. "Oh, my God! You act like a robot!"

"Yeah, I have been told that in the past. Also sociopathic." Good memories of my past life, those ones. "But I'm not! At least that's what the tests I took online told me."

Oh, yes, there's Taylor's eye-twitching again. Her cushion already expended, she picks her pillow up and hurls it to me. But this time I'm ready and manage to catch it mid-flight! Only to once again fall to the ground as this childish body is unable to resist even that little force.

I'll have to improve it one of these days. Maybe starting with a new spine.

Once I pick myself up, I see that Taylor has crouched into a little ball and is now staring at the wall, showing me her back.

I'm sure now that she's mad! Or sad. One of the two.

What to do?

"Do you want a hug?"

"No! Why would I want one?"

"Because hugs are nice." Now, what would an 11 years old say? "That's what the pink dinosaur on the TV usually says." Barney is still a thing, right?

She slowly raises up and turns to look at me, making me feel like a bacteria underneath the microscope. I stay my ground, staring back, as she reaches at me and pokes me in the shoulder.

"Ouch." I say despite not really hurting me. It just feels like the appropriate thing to say under the circumstances.

Then she pokes me again.

"Ouch."

And again.

"Ouch." Ok, this is getting tedious and repetitive. "For how long are you going to keep doing that?"

She pulls back, still looking at me with a creeped-out expression in her face. "Have you always been like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like, you know, have you always behaved like this?"

That's an excellent question! I don't know what the child I'm inhabiting was like before all this started. I don't know if he even existed before my arrival. "I don't know. How can I know?"

"Did your parents ever take you to see any… therapist or psychiatrist?"

Not in my previous life at least. "I don't know?"

"How can you- Sorry, sorry. It's not right for me to talk about your family under the circumstances." Is she... sobbing? Oh, God, did I cause her to have a relapse over her mother's death? "I remember when mom died. The first weeks… the first months were hard."

Yeah, they always are when a close relative passes away. "The place they used to occupy is now empty. Sometimes you think that maybe this time when you look they will be there but they aren't. They never are. But you learn to keep moving, and as you keep moving you keep surviving."

"How can you be so cold?"

"Well, the fact that I don't remember their faces help." Her back straightens up and her eyes widen as dishes. "What?"

"You… you what?"

"I don't remember their faces." I repeat. "I know that the social worker told me their names but I forgot them too." Oh, names, I suck at them. "I remember going to school," At least the school of my previous life. "Reading books and watching TV. But when it comes to my parents," These parents, not my real ones. "There's not-" And suddenly I find myself unable to speak as Taylor is now hugging me.

Yes, hugs are indeed nice.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Eh, it's okay." Not like the death of people I never knew or cared about can affect me.

"No, it's not! Do you… do you really not remember anything about them?"

I shake my head. "My memories from before the crash are fuzzy." Non-existent would be more accurate. "The clear ones start after that."

"Jesus Christ." And there she is hugging me again. And then she chuckles. It is a sad chuckle that sounds more like a sob. "I'm pathetic. And to think I was jealous of you."

Now that makes me cock my head in confusion. "Jealous of me? Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Is it about your power?" I do remember she considered her bug control week.

Slowly she breaks the hug and releases a sigh. "Yes, it is." She opens her palm to let a fly land on it. "You built a lightsaber from a bunch of trash in an afternoon." The fly lifts off and makes several maneuvers in the air before returning to her palm. "And I can do this."

"And so you feel inadequate."

She snores. "I guess I do." Progress! She sounds better already.

Now, I know that with months of practice she'll be able to do some incredible stuff, like seeing and listening through her bugs or even imitating human speech with them. But at this stage she's very early in her path to mastering her power.

Time to give her a gentle push in the right direction.

"How many insects can you control at the same time and what's your radius of control?"

"Why would you want to help me?"

"Why wouldn't I? You have been nice to me so I don't want you to die." At least not for the time being.

"The first thing I did was covering you with spiders!"

"Yes. That should clue in on how my interactions with other humans usually go." And isn't that just so, so sad? "Now, about my question?"

Her shoulders drop in defeat. "I control all insects on the block."

"Do you know where all of them are?"

"Every moment. Yes."

I stand up and pace back and forth around her room pretending to think. "Wait here." I leave and in a moment I'm back with a broom. "Place a fly there." I aim at a spot on the wall.

"Why?"

"I have an idea. Come on! Let's experiment!" I don't have to pretend to be excited.

"Fine." The fly sets in location. "Now what?"

I give her the broom. "Hold this up as if it was a rifle and place two other flies on it. One at each end."

Her eyes narrow. She looks at me, then at the broom, then at me again and finally at the wall. She picks the broom up and snaps it into position as if the handle was the barrel of a gun. The 3 flies are perfectly aligned with each other. She lowers it and then aims again. Another alignment. She moves a couple of steps to the left, spins, and aims again. Yet another perfect shot.

Then she does something that I wasn't expecting. She walks to the window and aims the broom outside. I can see her moving it as if she was tracking a target.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"There's a tick on the back of a cat across the street."

Now there's that legendary Taylor intelligence I heard so much about! A pity that she uses it for combat and not for social interactions.

And with me at her side, that means that we are doomed if we face anything that we can't just pummel into a bloody pulp.

Is there anything I can create to help us there? There is a pheromone that can mind-control people, not really what I'm looking for, and a band that can connect the users to a hive-mind. Now that's something that I want! But it is on the expensive side of things.

Done with her own tests, Taylor takes a step back and puts the broom aside, still glimpsing at it as if now realizing what she just did. "That was interesting. But I don't want to shoot people!"

I swear, at this point she's just being fastidious for the sake of it.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to kill people!"

I released a sigh. That's a mentality that we'll need to work on. "It's okay, I can build you a rifle that incapacitates the targets without killing them."

"Can you really do that?"

I go through the blueprints I have in my head. I have plasma rifles, gauss rifles, bio-acid, and others that are even worse. No non-lethal options in there. Oh, well, I'm sure everything will get sorted out at the end. "Of course I can. But I'll need a lot of resources that I currently don't have." Maybe if I tell her that she'll stop complaining and start helping me.

Taylor purses her lips as if rolling a reply over her tongue. "Fine. If we-"

And that's when we hear the sound of a car stopping soon followed by the main door opening.

"Taylor, Peter! I'm back!"

It seems that most of our afternoon was consumed by the trip to the library and then by my tinkering.

We'll have to continue our talk another day.

Dinner is also a mostly silent affair but Danny does comment on how happy he is to see Taylor and I getting along.

No idea how he can tell or what us 'getting along' even looks like.

After helping Taylor with the dishes I go to my room and use the final hours of the day finishing my visor.

Good thing that tomorrow is Sunday.

 

[Hydralisk]

Happy to see you!(No regrets!)

 

[Ridli Scott]

And you started hard, with all the Starcraft techtree...
Zergs included?

Because that is how you get Piggot murderous mad, even if they were awesome for crowd control.

The name of the fic is a declaration I suppose.

 

[Vhalidictes]

This is awesome.

Also, seeing Taylor deal with someone differently broken than herself is fantastic.

 

[Ridli Scott]

I think that what I missed the most is all the progress I had on my Gacha games.

Click to shrink...

Ouch! And you just managed to pull Le Malin. That sucks.


Let's hope one of the next specialization is Azur Lane and you could build every ship in the game.
Yes, I remember that omake.

 

[Dracovictorious]

Ooh, another ToF fic I'm so excited! Starcraft is a pretty good starter too. Between the three races there's a lot of variety and cost levels.

Unless Bakuga gets me.

Click to shrink...

Should be Bakuda, unless that's a character slip rather than an author one

 

[Axolotlmann]

I heard fire. I like Fire. Let's see what you've got for us.

 

[Poliamida]

And you started hard, with all the Starcraft techtree...
Zergs included?

Click to shrink...

Yup! Of course Peter's lack of resources will mean a massive problem when handling the SC tree, and we won't be able to pump out the crazy shit that Tonny could. I consider that a feature as it will forme me to be more creative on how to use the following trees.

Peter won't build the Zerg because he considers everything biological iky. The Mecha Zerg, though? Those are free game.

Should be Bakuda, unless that's a character slip rather than an author one

Click to shrink...

That's a mistake, thanks for pointing it out.

The name of the fic is a declaration I suppose.

Click to shrink...

I heard fire. I like Fire. Let's see what you've got for us.

Click to shrink...

Oh, you won't be dissapointed.

The name says it: Go Big or Go Off in Nuclear Fire. Peter doesn't like the world of Worm, doesn't consider it worthy of salvation or attention, so his objective is to enjoy his powers to the fullest while doing things his own way. And if that includes using it to blow the planet up (or at least a part of it) so be it.

That cavaliere atitude will come to bite him on the ass several times but that's part of the fun!

 

[Poliamida]

In nuclear fire - 3​

Behind the cover of a dumpster I turn the Psi Blade on, cutting through the chained door as if it was butter. I make my way in. The lights don't work but the Blade once again proves its worth by acting as an improvised lamp. Not for my sake as I have my visor on, but for Taylor's.

"What's that smell?" She asks, covering her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

The place we are in is an old factory not that far away from her place that supposedly was closed ages ago. Just to be on the safe side both of us scouted ahead, she with her bugs and me with my visor, but no signs of life were found.

"Cat piss and rat droppings I'd say." The smell isn't as bad as the smell of the settling ponds of a tannery I visited once, but it's still very bad. The building consists of the main production area, which at first glance looks empty beyond piles of useless debris, followed by an office section. My visor once again proves its worth by letting me find traces of metals: several meters of copper cable that no one bothered to remove from the walls.

"You look excited." Taylor comments as she helps me pull the wires out of their sockets.

"This is a good start. There's a lot I can do with this." Our work done, I store the wires in a backpack that Taylor lent me. It's red and grey, not really what I was expecting a girl her age to own but I guess it' a result of her bullying. The cheapest and dullest it looks, the less it will hurt once it inevitably gets vandalized.

That reminds me that I have to kill the Trio once I make sure I can get away with it. A stealth suit and an anti-matter rifle should do the trick. Not anti-material, anti-matter. I really like my power.

With nothing else of interest to be found in the production area, we move to the offices.

What receives us is a pile of computer towers. "Are those computers?!" Taylor asks me in surprise.

I walk to one of them and effortlessly I toss it aside. "No, it's just the cases. They are empty." If these have actually been computers I'd have thrown myself to the ground and thank God for his mercy but of course I'm not that lucky. There are some keyboards and mouses around that I break open to retrieve some useful parts but that's about it.

With the first office down we move to the second, and then to the third. We don't find anything of interest in them either so we move to the last one.

"Ahhhhh!" Taylor's scream tears through the building, making my heart jump to my throat as I instinctively turn the Psi Blade on.

I rush to her to see what the problem is.

"Shit!"

It's a man lying on the floor on a pile of newspapers and what seems to be his own vomit. He's dirty and surrounded by bottles.

Fuck! How is that I didn't see him? This is bad! This is a fucking disaster!

"Stay back, Peter! Stay back!" Taylor says, putting a protective hand over my chest.

No, no. That's impossible, my visor should have detected any human signals.

The man isn't moving and just now I realize that he is the source of the smell we noticed earlier.

Now that, that does remind me of the settling ponds.

Oh. That's why my visor didn't detect him.

"God! We need to call an ambulance! The police, someone!"

"Taylor, that man's dead."

His chest isn't moving, his half-opened mouth has long since dried out, and I can see that his eyes remain opened behind his long disheveled hair.

Taylor takes a step back and then another. She searches for my hand and once she finds it we both rush out of that place.

Two streets later I realize that she's still holding my hand. I don't mind that at all.

---

"We should have done something." Taylor sulks as she passes me the second ice cream. After the factory, we didn't return home and instead came to the park. Danny gave Taylor some money for us to enjoy, and what better way to lift one's spirit than with ice cream?

"There was nothing for us to do." That feeling eats me from the inside. The guy probably died last night, no way for him to be so… intact if that wasn't the case. That must be why insects didn't set on him, and why Taylor didn't detect him. It was too early.

Maybe it was an overdose or just a lack of food and medication.

Maybe he got cold, and his body just gave up.

It's so fucking unfair. Why do these things happen? Why do people allow them to happen?

And to think that I'm in Worm where people should consider themselves lucky if they end as he did! There are just so many incompetent assholes to deal with!

I'm trembling.

Taylor puts a hand on my shoulder and the trembling stops. "We should have called the police."

I did think about doing that, but what were we supposed to say? "And tell them we were breaking and entering? They would have asked questions."

"They would have informed his family."

"You saw him. Do you think he has one?"

As a form of an answer, she buries her face into the ice cream. In just a moment both our ice creams are gone and we are left with nothing else to do but watch the people around.

There are several families coming and going, some people doing exercise and some more taking their pets for a walk.

"When was the last time you came to a park?" I ask Taylor trying to distract her from what happened. "Or shared food with anyone?" Maybe I should consider researching how to distract people from bad topics in ways that don't remind them of worse topics.

"A long time ago." A dog dashes in front of us, his leash waving freely behind him and his owners try to catch him. "You know, we used to come to this park a lot. We were even talking about getting a dog before… everything."

Yes, exactly like that! My question did manage to distract her from the dead stranger by reminding her of her dead mother. Bravo me! Yes, I am being sarcastic. "Say, how many people do you think are here?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "A hundred?"

"If you put a fly on each of them you will know."

She narrows her eyes in concentration. "No, that… I thought that was only one person but it's two. And that's only one…" After a moment she shakes her head. "It's hard to coordinate my bugs when I can't see where they are going." She sounds so defeated.

"That makes no sense. Your spiders were working without you being there."

"I had already set them to work. Here I have to see the people so I can direct my bugs to them. That's the part I'm struggling with."

"Something to work on, then."

After that, we make our way back to Taylor's house. Thankfully Danny doesn't seem to notice our dark moods. I don't know if that's because we are good at hiding it or because that has become the standard in this house.

Probably the latter.

---

As it turns out, my transference to the new school isn't ready yet so I'm forced to see Taylor depart to Winslow (firmly on my to-burn list) while I follow Danny to his work. At first, I think about resisting and telling him I'll be fine alone at home, but what is there for me to do? My progress building my stuff has slowed to a crawl due to lack of resources and after what happened the last day I don't want to go out on my own.

Besides, the docks sound like a perfect place to find stuff.

"Danny, hi! Is this the runt?" The one to greet us is a short, chubby man with a chin almost as big as his forehead.

"That's the one. Peter, say hi to Kurt."

"Hi." I say and offer him my hand.

He ignores it and proceeds to ruffle my hair. "Pleasure to meet you, kid!" I suppress a gag at the smell of tobacco coming from his mouth.

We just met and I already don't want anything to do with this man.

Ignoring my discomfort (or maybe just not noticing if I felt like giving him the benefit of the doubt), Danny continues talking to him. "What news do you have today?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. They guys from Rick's group are complaining that they are still missing half their pay."

I tune their conversation out as I focus on more useful things. Namely, trying to take my bearings of the place.

Danny's office is located on the second floor of a truly massive warehouse. There are several other offices in there, and what looks to be a meeting room, but they look abandoned and one has even been left half-built.

Or half-demolished.

I take notice of more copper wire and the remains of an electric board scattered all over the ground. There's also a broken phone! And a modern-looking one on top of that. There's a lot that I can salvage from there.

I walk past Danny's office without him even noticing I'm there and make my way to the ground floor.

My initial observation of the place proves to be wrong as it's only 'mostly' empty, one small section of it dedicated to the storage of goods.

My hands start shaking.

Those are electronics!

TVs, microwaves, and hair dryers. And cell phones! My sweet lord, glorious cell phones! Dozens of them. I can build so much with that.

But there's no way I can steal that cargo without being immediately found out. I still take note of the place, maybe I can return once I have the stealth suit ready, just after I murder the trio. And a lot of other people now that I think about it. I should make a list.

My search continues and takes me outside, into the area where they store the containers. The place's deserted and my disappointment is immeasurable as I see that the containers are all empty, with most having turned into nests for birds. Pieces of broken wood make my progress difficult through the parts that nature has reclaimed for herself, with weed growing through the cracks and with seagulls being the only living thing on sight.

I knew what had happened to this place. I knew that after Leviathan and the economic collapse the maritime industry had died, but it in person is hard. So much progress lost.

And in the distance I see the boat graveyard. Dozens of ships left there to rust and fall apart, no one bothering to invest in them. I want to get to them so badly! There's no way they were fully dismantled so they must still contain useful equipment. That's a goldmine waiting for me.

I wander off a bit more but I fail to find anything of interest, just even more empty containers and even emptier storehouses that were abandoned to the elements.

For a brief moment I consider giving up and joining the Wards, or even one of the gangs, but I quickly murder both ideas. I'm stubborn and somehow I'll make this work.

Eventually I make my way back to Danny's office.

He didn't notice when I left the same way he doesn't notice when I return.

---

With my backpack full of the material I found, we make our way back to Taylor's house. She hasn't returned yet and so I go to the attic where I can start the next stage of my work: building more advanced tools.

I lose track of time and only notice Taylor's arrival when I hear the door to her room opening and closing. From there she comes to my room with a book on her hand. Without saying a word she takes a seat on a corner and starts reading, allowing me to continue my work in peace.

And like that we spend the rest of the day.

It's nice how we can share the silence.

 

[Poliamida]

In nuclear fire - 4​

As I look at the entrance to my school, with all the children rushing in, I ask myself: 'How long do I have before going insane?'

I already went through all this and the entire idea of tolerating the drama of highschool again is as appealing as having the hairs of my nose pulled one by one.

So, why am I doing this? Why am I not proclaiming my intellect so I can be moved to a higher grade?

Simple, it's easier this way. This isn't about me thriving or building the foundations for a bright future. I have no future here. My objective is to survive the coming months for long enough for me to attain material independence, and sixth grade will allow me to do just that. I'll barely need to study or pay attention in classes beyond the minimum necessary to keep myself out of trouble while I use my time on important stuff.

But it's not like that perfectly logical reasoning will make tolerating my classmates any easier.

There's the one with the mischievous smile, who looks to have been dropped as a baby, and is just playing with the tips of his fingers.

The pair of girls that whisper at each other and laugh uncontrollably at random.

And oh my God, there's the chatterbox who just doesn't shut up! He keeps talking and talking about any random stuff! From the car of his dad to the boyfriend of his sister to the new cartoon on TV!

And then there are the few that looked as bored as I was. At least with those I feel a sense of kinship.

Better not to get too attached to any of them because who knows how many will still be alive at the end of the month.

The first activity of the day is English.

"Good morning class." Greets us the English teacher. "As you see, today we have a new student. Peter, why don't you say hi?"

I stand up, look at my classmates, and do exactly that: "Hi." And then I sit back down.

"Well, I hope that Peter can make good friends here."

Before the week is over I'll already have forgotten all their names.

The class continues mostly uninterrupted with the teacher droning something about how to properly read and discuss a piece of literature. At least I can appreciate the book they are reading, Treasure Island is a good story. Far, far better than any of the movies it inspired with the exception of the Muppets one.

This is also the last class they'll be working on it, and I'm so delighted to see the expression in my classmates' faces as their dreams and hopes are crushed upon reaching the ending. There's no emotional reunion between John Silver and Jim at the end of the book. The pirate just leaves and that's it. That of turning him into a father figure for Jim is nothing more than saccharin added to shelter kids from the reality of the outside world.

Well, suck it up, kids! This is the kind of stuff that builds character.

The alarm rings and the next class starts with the new teacher: a man in his late forties that reminds me a bit of Danny.

"Today, kids, we'll start with fractions."

Fractions.

No fractional equations, no exponential fractions, nothing like that. Just simple fractions using natural numbers.

Dear Lord, I'm being taught sixth-grade level mathematics.

That really shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did but is still frustrating.

I have given classes on how to integrate complex fractions! And this guy's trying to explain to me what a common denominator is?

And the worst of it is that he doesn't even teach! He's reading the book out loud and transcribing what's in there to the board. Why do we need you? If you want to be this useless you can just give us the damn book and be done with it! I at least have the attention span to read it.

Like, at least during literature I could keep myself entertained. Arguing with children about the literary value of a book is a fun experience in itself. But this? It takes me one glance to already know the solution to the problem the teacher's expecting us to struggle with. It's that easy. I open my book to read ahead and, yes, things won't be getting any more interesting in my foreseeable future.

"Pet-r…"

I could solve all of this in an afternoon if I had the disposition for it.

"Peter…"

Fuck this shit! Maybe I should reconsider my presence here and just forget about classes altogether. I'll just ditch school and stay home claiming depression.

"Peter Brown!" Oh, yes, that's my name. I keep forgetting that. "Would you like to solve the problem on the blackboard?" Shit, the teacher sounds angry. I think he has been calling my name for a while now.

Oh, well. I stand up, walked to the board, and write the answer. It's 3. Then I return to my seat.

The teacher does get flabbergasted for a moment before getting angry again. "How did you reach that answer?"

"By doing math." I swear I don't want to sound condescending but sometimes I feel that's just my default attitude towards the world.

"You didn't write the step-by-step solution."

"Don't need to."

"You should solve the problems as I teach you to solve them."

"You aren't teaching anything! You're just reading what the book says!"

"Be careful with your tone, young man!"

"Or what?"

First day of class and I'm spending the breaks in detention. I feel like laughing at these fools, are they seriously trying to punish me with social isolation? They have no idea who they are dealing with!

I am forced to do some extra exercises during the break but I solve those in a breeze and spend the rest of the time scribbling diagrams for my next inventions.

Once the day is over I return to Taylor's house with a new understanding of her frustrations. I find her waiting for me at her usual spot in the attic, reading the book she started yesterday.

"Taylor, let's go scavenging."

"Yes, please."

This time we find no bodies and return with a nice amount of scrap.

---

On the second day of school, we have history.

"The red coats weren't conscripts! They joined the army willingly, and one of the reasons why America won was because England didn't have enough soldiers to send! Oh, but who am I arguing with? You Americans love rewriting history to make yourselves look good!"

This time I spend the lunch break in detention.

That only means more peace and quiet for me while I scribble some more.

---

On the third day, we have social studies.

"Oh, please, the Athenians were assholes!" To be fair the teacher doesn't disagree with my statement, just the way I say it.

This time they try to make me stay after hours. Of course that 'try' is the operative word.

"Mister Brown, where are you going?" One of the teachers asks me as I make my way out of the building.

"Home."

"You have detention today!"

"I know. I'm not staying for that."

"We will inform your guardian about this!"

"Do as you please."

When I enter the living room I find Danny already waiting for me together with Taylor.

"Peter, can we talk for a moment?"

My reply to that consists of me tossing my backpack aside and sitting in front of him on the chair he has already prepared.

"Peter, with Taylor we're worried about how you're doing at school."

She's very much not looking at me, without confirming nor denying her father's claims. Considering how her experience with Highschool has been going, she probably believes this to be as much bulshit as I do.

"We understand that you're going through difficult times but we only want to help you adjust to your new situation."

I wonder if he's using his 'union' speech with me.

"I talked to your teachers and I agreed that, to help you integrate, they'll assign you a partner your own age."

Taylor breaths out sonorously through her nose.

Shit! Is she angry at me? Danny pretty much abandoned her after Annette's death, and it was Alan Barnes of all people who convinced him to start giving a crap about his daughter again. And now here is Danny interacting with me after I went through something similar.

"Is that alright, Peter?"

"Yes, Danny."

He palms me on the leg with a smile before moving to the kitchen where he has a pile of papers waiting for him to look over.

Taylor's the next to leave, going up the stairs with me behind her. To my surprise, she doesn't go to her room but follows me to the attic.

"He always does the same." She says once we are on our spots, and my confusion must show on my face because she immediately elaborates: "When it comes to his family, he lets other people decide."

Oh...

Ohhhh. Ok, yes, I massively misunderstood how she saw my talk with Danny.

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't!" Her reaction surprises me. "It's not fair that they treat you like that!"

"Life's unfair. That's why I'm trying to build an army of robots to force it into submission."

Taylor chuckles at that. "Yeah, that sounds like something I'd like to see." Then her shoulders drop. "I can't go with you scavenging today. I need to do math."

Now that's something I can definitely help her with. "Are you having trouble with that?"

"No, no, it's just that… it's just that I lost my maths book."

Lost, sure. The Trio must have stolen it. "Let me help you."

"Really, you don't need to-"

"Taylor," I don't shout but I do raise my voice. "I assure you that I'm better at math than your teacher. And I want to help you as a way of sticking it to mine."

That makes her smile and we spend the rest of the afternoon working on that. It's so nice to work with someone who listens and puts the effort into learning, doing something more than staring at me like a dead fish.

And talking about dead fishes, I wonder who the school roped into being my partner.

---

"Good morning, Peter! I'm Missy Biron."

Well, fuck me.

 

[Ridli Scott]

At least I can appreciate the book they are reading, Treasure Island is a good story. Far, far better than any of the movies it inspired with the exception of the Muppets one.

Click to shrink...

Can't find a more absolute truth than this.

First day of class and I'm spending the breaks in detention. I feel like laughing at these fools, are they seriously trying to punish me with social isolation? They have no idea who they are dealing with!

Click to shrink...

These fools.

You Americans love rewriting history to make yourselves look good!"

Click to shrink...

That there is like stabbing someone in the eye and twisting the knife.

"Good morning, Peter! I'm Missy Biron."

Well, fuck me.

Click to shrink...

Ok, that's scary, she could be a problem, a big one. Armsmaster? He's a joke. Assault? He's the one telling the joke. Miss Milita? As long a boss orders something she's a robot. But Vista... she isn't only a shaker 9 but a thinker 12 because sometimes she could use a very special power in Worm: Common sense.

 

[Dracovictorious]

I can't go with you scavenging today. I need to do maths.

Click to shrink...

Sorry to britpick, but Taylor would just say math.

And I want to help you as a way of sticking it into mine.

Click to shrink...

Do you mean sticking it to, or is Peter being especially gross?


Anyway, two fun chapters. I really like the portrayal of Peter in school. All of the younger SI's I see tend to try and blend in a little too much, so it's nice to read a character that is an actual adult having to do 6th grade again

 

[Mantrazz Albert]

Really like this, among the few SI's I've read that didn't have a hungering urge to suck up to the Undersiders with barely dressed reasons, has a realistic relationship with Taylor, and understand that by existing means most of what happened in canon is now subject to edit.

Would like to see your portrayal of Coil because most fics either underestimate or overestimate him but they always give him some incredible idiot ball all the time

 

[henkalv]

so it's nice to read a character that is an actual adult having to do 6th grade again

Click to shrink...

I wouldn't call it very adult to yell at the teacher for them telling you that you were wrong even though you are right. It is a bit like yelling at clouds only with actual repercussions.

 

[Mendeleev]

Someone taught that redcoats were conscripts? I've never heard that.

 

[Ridli Scott]

Someone taught that redcoats were conscripts? I've never heard that.

Click to shrink...

I have no idea if somewhere this is a thing really, but I blame Cauldron.

 

[Axolotlmann]

"The red coats weren't conscripts! They joined the army willingly, and one of the reasons why America won was because England didn't have enough soldiers to send! Oh, but who am I arguing with? You Americans love rewriting history to make yourselves look good!"

Click to shrink...

Correct me if I am wrong but if I remember right the british didn't even have compulsary military service in that time, didn't they? Why would someone try to teach information that is so easily falsified?
Soldiers that were desperately needed against the French, Spain and the Dutch. Also Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben....


I like an SI that doesn't try to save the World or tries to blend in too much. We'll see howhis impatience bites him in the ass.
And who doesn't love Vista? I certainly am fond of that little Child-Soldier.

 

[Poliamida]

Sorry to britpick, but Taylor would just say math.

Click to shrink...

No, no, feel free to nitpick as much as you want, especially when it comes to grammar.

understand that by existing means most of what happened in canon is now subject to edit.

Click to shrink...

That's something that I always hate in SIs, made only more outrageous when they SI as a main character. How can you possibly try to preserve canon when you just popping up already ruined it?
It would be interesting if authors wrote those stories as self-fulfilling prophecies where they trying to preserve canon only pushes it further and further away, but that's rarely the case.

I wouldn't call it very adult to yell at the teacher for them telling you that you were wrong even though you are right. It is a bit like yelling at clouds only with actual repercussions.

Click to shrink...

Peter isn't good at being patient or with long-term thinking, at least when it comes to other people.

Someone taught that redcoats were conscripts? I've never heard that.

Click to shrink...

I based that on a video I watched once, let me find it:


I blame less Cauldron and more the steady colapse of society.

Correct me if I am wrong but if I remember right the british didn't even have compulsary military service in that time, didn't they? Why would someone try to teach information that is so easily falsified?

Click to shrink...

Correct, many soldiers were even criminals or debtors who got their sentences shortened by fighting.

I like an SI that doesn't try to save the World or tries to blend in too much. We'll see howhis impatience bites him in the ass.

Click to shrink...

Oh, it will! Believe me that it will.

 

[henkalv]

Snip

Click to shrink...

I don't really know anything about it, but apparently according to Wikipedia impressment into the army was reinstated during the war. Don't know how different conscription and impressment is, other than a matter of scale.

Spoiler: Wikipedia

During the American Revolutionary War, after the losses at the Battle of Saratoga and the impending hostilities with France, the existing voluntary enlistment measures were judged to be insufficient. Between 1775 and 1781, the regular army increased from 48,000 to 110,000. Two acts were passed, the Recruiting Act 1778 and the Recruiting Act 1779, for the impression of individuals into the British Army.[42] The chief advantages of these acts was in the number of volunteers brought in under the apprehension of impressment. To avoid impressment, some recruits incapacitated themselves by cutting off the thumb and forefinger of the right hand, making it impossible to use a musket or sword.[43] The Recruiting Act of 1779 was repealed on 26 May 1780, and army impressment was permanently discontinued.

 

[Axolotlmann]

Correct, many soldiers were even criminals or debtors who got their sentences shortened by fighting.

Click to shrink...

One never stops learning. Good to know. And one has to say, their Uniforms were stylish. Not as awesome as prussian blue but really few things are.

I don't really know anything about it, but apparently according to Wikipedia impressment into the army was reinstated during the war. Don't know how different conscription and impressment is, other than a matter of scale.

Click to shrink...

If the translator translates the words right to german, then impressment means that you force all kinds of people into the army by saying so, while Concription means, that every adult has to serve a mandatory time in the military.
Thats new to me, I didn't know the english word impresssment until now but its good to learn. That is only if the translation i was given was the right one of course and every native english speaker here, is of course very welcome to shed some light upon the matter.

 

[Hydralisk]

How can you possibly try to preserve canon when you just popping up already ruined it?

Click to shrink...

Details and devils. It all depends on what is influencable by the SI and what they do. Can peter mess up BB, absolutly. But some other things will still go acording to canon. Its an act of what will happen how because of what.

 

[Mantrazz Albert]

Details and devils. It all depends on what is influencable by the SI and what they do. Can peter mess up BB, absolutly. But some other things will still go acording to canon. Its an act of what will happen how because of what.

Click to shrink...

It's the fact that things happen the exact same way with no proper explanation as to why, even when they act and have a presence in the community

 

[Poliamida]

In Nuclear Fire 5​

Missy Biron.

Cape.

Ward.

Heavily traumatized badass extraordinaire. At least after Leviathan happened.

Not like I should know any of that. What's a surprise to me is that she attends to the same school I go to, with the difference being that she's in grade B while I'm in grade A. I might have discovered that earlier if it wasn't for the fact that I spent the previous days in detention isolated from my peers. Or 'classmates' better said as I don't have 'peers' here.

Oh, well, no point crying over spilled milk.

"Hello." I tell her offering her my hand. And oh, my God, she actually shakes it! Finally someone fucking polite in this stupid world! That immediately gains her several points in my book.

Accompanying us is also the teacher that presented us. "I leave him to you, Missy. Do call if you need anything."

"Of course miss García."

The room we are in is a bit separated from the rest of the classrooms that we can see across the playground through the glass windows. It's the perfect set-up for the teachers to keep an eye on the problem children.

Missy takes her seat across the table and from her backpack she starts pulling out books.

"Now, Peter," She gestures at an empty chair. "Why don't you tell me what subjects you're having trouble with?"

I sit down. "None."

"Really? Because that's not what your teachers told me." I swear she's enjoying lording over me.

I breathe out sonorously through my nose. "My teachers say a lot of things. Few of which are true."

Wow, she can make a very scary face despite being only 12. "Did you always have that attitude?"

"I only speak the truth." At least the way I see it.

"I wonder if you will keep saying the same after I kick your ass."

That… is most definitely not what I was expecting to hear from her. And the worst part is that I have no doubts that she can make good on her promise. I don't think that even old adult-me could stand a chance against her either, even without her using her powers.

"What? Surprised that a girl can curse?"

"Admittedly, yes." Then I remember that this girl stitched herself the wounds she received from Hookwolf.

"Good! Maybe now you can start taking me more seriously." She places several books over the table. "So, what's your problem?"

And there we are at it again. "My problem is that my stupid teachers don't know how to te-Ouch!" She hit me with a book! "What was that for?"

"Stop being so condescending!"

"I can't! That's my default mood!" Jesus Christ this girl. "But fine, if you want to know I'm bored."

She keeps staring at me in deep thought. "Is that why you spend most of your time drawing?"

I feel a chill running down my spine. Missy knows Kid Win and knows Armsmaster, so she might be able to recognize tinker blueprints for what they are. "Yes. Not like I brought any with me today." Please, stop asking about them.

"You know, I'm sure that miss García would like to see them."

"Who?"

She might be giving me the flattest look anyone has ever given me. That's an accomplishment. "Your Visual Arts teacher? The woman I was talking to a moment ago? The woman who brought you here?"

"Ah." Admittedly, I do feel a bit embarrassed. "I'm terrible with names. But no. I draw because I like it, and I like it because I don't need to. If I'm forced to do it for school, then it's no longer fun."

Now it's her turn to roll her eyes. "No one here wants to force you. For my part, I just want to help you."

"Why? Why would you care and why would they have picked you to do this?"

She puffs her chest at that. "Well, the school asked me because I'm their best student with the highest marks."

Oh, pride. She reminds me of… well, me at her age. At any age in fact, except for the fact that I'd have never tried to help any of my classmates back in school.

"And the reason why I care is because I have a side job where I work with kids that went through traumatic experiences."

The Wards. She's talking about the Wards.

"So, you believe that the death of my parents has driven me crazy."

She snores at that. "Your words, not mine."

"I'm perfectly fine." 'Fine' might not be the correct word here. I'm still an adult inside the body of a child, so 'functional' should be more appropriate.

"Yeah, what do you say about hearing a professional's opinion?"

"Not interested." I say with a dismissive gesture of my hand.

"Are you sure? Mr. Petersen, the school's psychologist, is great."

"Yes, I am." And that's when the bell rings, signaling the end of our initial meeting. "Do I have to stay or…"

"No, no. You can go." She lifts two fingers to her eyes that she then aims at me. "But I will keep my eyes on you."

Joy.

During the rest of the day, I manage to keep my tongue on a leash for long enough to not go into further troubles, and making true of her word Missy stays around during our breaks. She asks me about how I'm acclimating to the Bay. "I was expecting it to be worse from what I heard." And about the family I'm staying with. "Taylor is nice. Goes to Winslow. She's intelligent and, unlike most people, does listen to me. And I like Danny because he doesn't care about me."

I finish school celebrating the start of the weekend.

"Do call me if you need help with your homework." Missy tells me on our way out.

"I won't." And with that, I make my way to Taylor's home.

---

"Good afternoon!" I call from the entrance as I make my way in. Danny isn't there, but Taylor's school bag is on the sofa. "Taylor? Hello?" The fact that she hasn't answered me yet is worrisome.

I go to the upper floor and find the door to her room open. There she is on her bed, with her face pressed against the pillow. It looks as if she has been crying. I walk to her. How are you supposed to comfort a teenager? I sit with my back against the bed and there I wait for her to start speaking.

I wait for a long time.

"They said I copied their homework."

I feel my nails digging into the wooden floor. I don't bother to ask who 'they' are. I already know the answer.

"The teacher got angry at me."

My jaw starts hurting with how hard I'm pressing my teeth.

"Told me he'd call my dad."

And that's when I can't contain it anymore and make Taylor jump when I punch the wall.

"Peter?"

"Sorry." I say, clutching my hand. "I felt like hitting something." Damn, that hurt like a bitch.

"I know the feeling." She slowly pushes herself up, turning around to look at the ceiling. "I just want something they can't ruin."

"Fuck it!" I find myself yelling. "Just ruin them! You could do it. A spider bite, a scorpion sting. It would be so easy! And it could pass as an accident!"

Horror flashes over her face. "I'm not going Carrey on my school!"

Yeah, yeah, the entire concept of letting loose on one's school and killing classmates and teachers. "Why not?" For the love of me, I can't understand how that isn't a daily occurrence in the world of Worm, it isn't as they don't deserve it after all.

"Because… because…" Taylor clutches her head, her breathing reaching a crescendo before it drops once again. "I have asked myself the same question more than once. But no. I want to forget about them and just be happy."

I can understand that. It doesn't mean I agree with her reasoning, but I can understand it. Killing them all will offer her nothing but a brief moment of joy, and things will only get worse if she doesn't have a plan to fall back into. "We all want the same thing."

"I thought I could just stop going, but then what? We don't have the money for a GED and they know where I live. Home is the only place where they don't bother me. I want to keep that."

A defense grid. A network of security towers that will fill with lead whoever dares to approach. Can I find a way to make that look like an accident?

"You could sell your powers. You could be a great exterminator."

"You think I didn't think about it? I did look up what I'd need to become a Rogue but it's far too complicated. I'd need to be of age for starters." She laughs. "You know? It's kind of funny that being a vigilante is easier than being a Rogue."

The joints of my fingers ache as I twist them. "Of course it is."

I'm so done with this place. With the stupidity, with the incompetence, with the bullshit. Just everything.

So many people to kill and places to destroy.

"But I don't think I'd do it. I… I want to do something big." She raises her arms. "I don't know what but I want to feel like I accomplished something special. Anything."

Now she's speaking my language. "Or die trying."

She presses a palm against her eyes. "Yeah. I guess that's okay too. I just don't want to give them the satisfaction of admitting defeat. I just want to go out there and do something awesome."

I want to help her. And raze the world in the process if necessary.

"We will need nails." I find myself gasping for air. How quick is my heart racing? "And a lot of them."

"Nails?" She asks in confusion. "What are you going to build with them?"

She's thinking tinkertech.

This isn't going to be tinkertech, but not any less useful because of that.

"We are going to build caltrops. And we'll need eggs too." Before she can ask questions I elaborated. "You fill them with sand and cover the hole with duct tape. That way you always have sand to throw at your enemy's eyes. Powdered glass or pepper also works."

She scowls. "That sounds nasty."

"Don't argue with the results."

"Can't you just build your stun gun as you promised?"

I grumble under my breath. I di promise that, didn't I? "No luck there. There's something that I'm missing." For more than I have tried, the blueprints for a non-lethal range weapon still elude me. I still don't fully understand how my power works, it looks broad at first glance but lacking in specifics. That isn't how tinker powers are supposed to work, right? They allow for adaptation and creativity. Mine's as if it had a very specific and limited number of 'blueprints' I can build, being extremely hard for me to deviate from them. That's the antithesis of how powers should work and of what the entities want! But maybe I have been looking at this the wrong way. My problem isn't that my power lacks non-lethal options, it's that I have been focusing on 'range'. I do have a blueprint that fits my needs. "I could use the Psi Blade."

I jump to my feet and start pacing back and forth around Taylor's room.

"Yes?" She asks, straightening up as her curiosity is piqued.

That's it! Forget about a ranged weapon, I can do this with a melee one! "I can improve it. Give it a secondary mode that allows it to function as a Darkcoil."

"I don't know what that is but continue."

I can see it in my mind! How is that I didn't see it before? It will be so easy! "The attack won't be lethal but will discharge its energy around the target, incapacitating everyone in some 3 meters radius. But the effect won't last more than a couple seconds," That's a problem. A big problem. Not enough time to secure the enemies. "But if I improve it with a Stunner it will also release an electric shock that will knock out a fully grown man for several minutes." That's it! A full room of unconscious people in one swing of the blade!

"That sounds like something I can use."

No, she can't.

Too dangerous.

"But it's no good, you'd need to get close for it to work."

"I'm fine with that, I'll just be careful."

"No, no, no." I shake my head. Solution. Solution. I need to find a solution. "You need… you need something to go in and out of combat quickly." Once again my power provides me with the answer. "A teleporter. Yes, a teleportation band with a very short range but a very fast recharge rate. Fast enough for you to go in, hit the enemies, and get out."

"How much time do you need to build that?"

Damn it, Taylor! I know you're excited but you aren't asking the right questions! Just think for a damn moment! "Several hours but that's not the problem, I'm lacking far too many resources."

Taylor dashes to her wardrobe, opens it, and starts pulling out a lot of stuff, hurling her clothes all over the place.

"What are you doing?"

One by one Taylor pulls out dozens of objects. Odds and ends of every shape and color. There are some electric dolls, a flashlight with the face of Minnie Mouse, and even one of those old handheld game systems, those that advertise having more than 900 games with half of them being Tetris. There's even a mini TV there! But one that looks to be broken. In fact, none of these artifacts seemed to be working.

"Is this enough?"

I make a quick mental calculation and… no, it's still not enough. Not enough! I could build the upgrade to the Blade with this but the problem is the teleporter. Something that complex needs rarer materials.

Unless…

There's something else I can build using Annette's jewelry. A crystalline matrix, an incredibly complex system that will be almost alive and that once built will start growing on its own, allowing me to harvest it for resources. It won't be a perfect solution, it'll only let me replace some electronics once the crystals have grown big enough, but overall it will cheapen some of my future projects. I will just need some extra time.

"Yes, it is." I press my fingers together while I think. "How's your suit going?"

"Nowhere near done. I will need another month and a half to finish it."

"What part is ready?"

"The shirt."

"That's the most important part." Gunshots are bad. Gunshots to the chest are worse. "Go get yourself a mask, and while I build your equipment start building those caltrops and filling those eggs because tomorrow night we go on patrol."

"Yes!" She rushes towards the kitchen.

"Also, Taylor?"

She pauses, staring at me.

"Start thinking about a name."

 

[Poliamida]

In Nuclear Fire 6​

Reboot finished,

Capacitors loaded,

All systems green.

"So?" Taylor asks next to me. "Is it working?"

To answer her question, I trigger the device. There's a flash of light and a moment of disorientation, but it works and in a blink I'm teleported across the attic. I should have been more careful with my destination, though, because I end up landing on an unstable pile of boxes. I slip, fall, and the boxes follow.

"Kids, what are you doing up there?" The voice comes from somewhere downstairs.

"Nothing, Danny/dad." We reply at the same time.

"Okay, I'm going to sleep. Don't make too much noise."

"Yes, Danny/dad."

None of us move a single muscle for several seconds after hearing the door to his bedroom closing.

Taylor's then the first to speak.

"Are we ready?"

I look down at what I have built. 'Ready' is a strong word. My mental calculation was way off and I was forced to cut several corners to make all the devices work.

The first one to go was the independent power source of the teleportation belt, which now shares battery with the Blade. As a result of that, both the Blink and the Darkcoil share the same cooldown. To give Taylor the option to use one after the other in quick succession, she can disable the blade altogether for a couple of seconds.

And talking about Darkcoil, I had to remove the in-built target selection VI. Normally the blade would be able to automatically discriminate friends from foes to stun, but I lacked the circuitry for that. The solution was to link the Blade to my Visor, giving me the job of Taylor's spotter. By default, the blade will hit all the targets that surround her, but I can select who to spare if the need arises.

What I thankfully had materials for, was a second visor for Taylor. I made it cheap by making it wirelessly share programs and processing power with mine. It will only work when the two are close, but it'll allow us to share sound and visuals.

"Not as prepared as I'd want us to be, but this will have to do."

She gives me a determined nod and pulls out her top to reveal the grey spider web shirt underneath. It's cold outside so she adds a dark grey jacket to her look, the pockets excellent to carry more equipment, like the caltrops and the eggs. She equips the blink band, the blade, and the visor before rolling her hair and hiding the rest of her face behind a balaclava.

With all that bulk, and her hair hidden, it's difficult to tell that there's a girl underneath all of that.

I dress up in a similar fashion of dark blues and greys with my visor and a balaclava of my own.

"So this is it, right?" She says shifting her weight from foot to foot. "This will be my first night out."

Yes, her first night, more than a month before what should have been her fight against Lung. I feel like saying some words of encouragement. "And so start the adventures of Tech-Priest and… I'm sorry, what name did you pick for yourself?"

She suddenly finds the floor very interesting. "I… the only thing I could think about was Ladybug."

I try not to chuckle. I fail. "Taylor, honey, you do not look like a 'Ladybug'."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Not really, no." I shrug and clear my throat. "And so begin the adventures of Tech-Priest and Ladybug. It doesn't matter what we do, it only matters that we have fun while doing it."

I activate my Visor to see if Danny's asleep. With that confirmed, I set a beacon for the teleporter on the top of a roof some hundred meters away, at the edge of the band's range. Taylor puts an arm around my shoulders and together we teleport into the night.

---

If I didn't know any better I'd say that Brockton Bay at night isn't particularly different from any other city. There are no fires, no police barricades, and no explosions that ruptured the space-time continuum.

Of course, I do know better. We're still a couple of weeks before things get really ugly so this is nothing more than the calm before the storm.

Our search for troubles takes us south to Downtown, then east, and from there we follow the boardwalk all the way to the North.

The Blink Band proves its worth by allowing us to cover all that distance in just an hour, instead of the several it would take us on foot. Even with that, we fail to find any criminals to beat up.

"This wasn't how I thought my first night out would go." Taylor says looking at the empty streets.

"What were you expecting? For Kaiser to show up, challenge you to a one-on-one duel, you defeating him and then dragging him to the PRT?"

"Well, no." She does sound a bit embarrassed by my description. "But... something, you know? At least a robbery or anything that I could stop."

And like summoned by her words, a warning suddenly flares on my visor. Taylor, who received the same message on hers, grabs me and presses me underneath a roof just in time to see a figure fly over the streets on a hoverboard.

I quickly add an identification to my visor, labeling the person as 'Kid Win' of the 'Wards' faction. He isn't alone, though, as another person follows close behind, this one flying on his own power. That's Aegis, the current leader of the Wards.

I add his label too as we see them heading towards the trainyard.

"Should we follow?"

I answer Taylor's question with a nod and we start teleporting behind them, being careful to not be noticed.

My technology isn't good enough to just crack the PRT signal, at least I don't think it is, but it allows me to listen to what the two Wards are saying.

'We're approaching the site of the disturbances.' Kid Win informs what I assume is the PRT console on the other side of the radio. Immediately my visor registers the unmistakable sound of gunshots. Several of them in fact, some that are even fully automatic. 'Yes, understood.'

'How long for reinforcements?' Aegis asks next. Despite being the leader he seems to be delegating to Kid Win. I don't know if it's to train him or because Kid Win's equipment allows for better communications.

'Ten minutes'.

They take cover behind a billboard, and we behind the chimney of an old factory far away from their sight.

From there we see what attracted the PRT's attention. There's a building next to a dock that advertises itself as a caffé. Surrounding it there's a group of some ten men firing at the place. Inside it, there's a group of another five entrenched men who're firing back.

My visor identifies three bodies scattered around, one inside and two more on the street. I'm not sure of what gang the two groups belong to.

Next to me, Taylor straightens up. "P-Tech Priest, how many people can the blade stun at the same time?"

Yes, she's thinking the same thing I'm thinking. "It's not the number of people but the area. The ones on the street are too scattered for you to take down at the same time, but the ones inside the house you can knock in one hit."

According to the timer I set, we only have 8 minutes until the PRT reinforcements arrive.

Taylor goes quiet for a moment. "Okay, my bugs are ready."

"Anything that can deliver a punch?"

"Fire ants, spiders, and paper wasps."

I nod. "Let's do this then."

There's a sudden shift in the flow of the battle as the attackers scream and flail around with cockroaches, spiders, and ants crawling over their pants while wasps circled them, stinging them over and over again. That would have turned them into sitting ducks for the defenders, but that's when Taylor goes in. In a flash of light, she's inside the room, and before the defenders can even register her presence she attacks.

The result is… much, much better than what I anticipated. There's a discharge of dark-colored energy followed by arcs of electricity that jump from target to target, only sparing Taylor.

7 minutes for reinforcements and one group is already down with no casualties.

'Console, did you see that? Yes, understood.'

But the light show hasn't been ignored and that's when the two Wards intervene.

"Tech-Priest, what's going on out there?" I can sense the nervousness in Taylor's voice. She's out of energy and it will be several seconds before she can use any of her items again.

"Kid Win's shooting at the other gang. I think it's a stun laser." We need one of those. "Aegis' just body-slamming them." His enhanced physiology allows him to out-fight any normal human and ignore gunshots. Not like he needs to put much effort into it because the bug bites have left the shooters already half-incapacitated. "It's over, they are all down." And that's when I Kid Win aims his board towards the caffé. "Shit! They are going for you!"

20 seconds for the recharge.

Looking left and right, Taylor finds an open window that leads to a balcony. She jumps through it.

15 seconds.

Kid Win goes into the room through a second window. He looks around and then notices the balcony.

10 seconds. I don't know if we'll have enough time.

Kid Win approaches the balcony.

5

4

3

2

1

There! Her systems are back online, so Taylor can just… jump out of her hiding spot and hit Kid Win with the Darkcoil.

"Ladybug, what are you doing?!"

"I panicked!"

"Kid Win!"

And there's Aegis charging in. He blasts through the wall just in time to see Kid Win hit the floor, only to immediately cry in surprise and take his hands to his eyes. Taylor… she just used the black eggs! I'm so proud!

That moment of distraction allows her to flee by jumping down to the street below.

"Throw something off the dock!" I radio her.

"What?"

"Now!"

She grabs a piece of broken brick and hurled it in, making a sonorous splash when it hits the water. The distraction works and Aegis goes to investigate, thinking that Taylor just jumped there. Too late he realizes that he has been tricked, and with the Band recharged once again Taylor teleports back to me.

I grab her by the wrist and together we flee the scene with the sound of the PRT sirens closing in.

---

It's around three in the morning when we finally return to the attic. We didn't stop running since the incident so just now we have the chance to slow down and talk about what happened.

"I think that went fairly well." I tell her in whispers to not wake Danny up.

"That was a disaster." She cries, massaging her face. "I can't believe I attacked a Ward."

"Live and learn, next time we'll do better."

"This was a terrible mistake."

"Taylor!" I grab her by the shoulders. "Listen to me. You are fine, I am fine, so we can only go up from there. Now, the important thing is, how are you feeling?"

She lets herself fall into a seated position so she can take the balaclava off. "My hands are trembling, my heart is pumping, and I feel like a porcupine the way my hair is standing on end." She takes a deep breath. "And honestly? I don't remember when was the last time I felt this good."

"That's the spirit!" I palm her back. "Are we doing this again?"

"Oh, absolutely. But not any time soon. I need some time to rest."

"Yeah, me too."

She picks her clothes up and makes her way back to her room. Truth be told I'm feeling mostly the same and in desperate need of several hours of sleep.

But there's something that's nagging me on the back of my head. It's a sensation that refuses to leave me alone, something related to my power. I don't know how to properly explain it but I'm sure, without any shadow of a doubt, that at this time next week my power will be gone. I'm not about to lose them completely but I'll lose access to all the things I can build right now. And replacing them I will get… something else. I don't know what but also related to tinkering.

So that's what my power's special gimmick is! That's why it feels so constrained, it switches at random every so many days!

Damn it, I so much don't need this right now! I've been banking on the idea of saving up materials and slowly building towards my more expensive blueprints, but with this? This means that I can't think long-term with my powers as I'm unable to predict what they'll turn into.

Now I need the drone more than ever before. Its self-modification properties will be invaluable once the switch happens as it'll allow me to adapt on the fly. It's just that useful! And once it receives enough materials it can rearrange into new forms, like the Mecha-Hydralisk for combat, or the Mecha-Mutalisk for aerial reconnaissance, or…

Wait, what? Those names… I didn't come up with them, those have just been provided by my power.

My mouth goes dry.

Fuck, those are Mecha-Zergs!

The band and the blade… those are Protoss! And the Visor is Terran!

Fuck, I have the power of Starcraft!

How is that I didn't notice before?

Fuck, we should have stayed and stripped Kid Win of all his equipment!